


I Can't See Me Loving Nobody But You

by biextroverts



Category: Sweet/Vicious (TV)
Genre: Canon Bisexual Character, F/F, First Kiss, Getting Together, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Love Confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-27 04:30:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10801740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biextroverts/pseuds/biextroverts
Summary: Ophelia's love for Jules is an unstoppable force.





	I Can't See Me Loving Nobody But You

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from "Happy Together" by The Turtles.
> 
> Inspired by the scene in Imagine Me and You that always makes me cry, aka the scene where Hec breaks up with Rachel because he knows she'll always be in love with Luce. Only replace Hec, Rachel, and Luce with Evan, Ophelia, and Jules.

         “We're just headed in different directions, Ophelia.”  
  
         “What kind of fucking platitude is that?” Ophelia nearly shouts. She isn't feeling as upset as she should be by Evan breaking up with her, really; I mean, yeah, she wants to cry, but she sort of usually wants to cry, and also she feels like an enormous weight is being lifted from her shoulders, which is not a normal “being broken up with” feeling. She really is angry, though, and appropriately so – like, does Evan not think she's smart enough to see through some disingenuous “it's not you, it's me” style bullshit? If he really thinks she'll buy that crap, then maybe she and Evan really aren't right for each other. “What different fucking directions, Evan?” she demands.  
  
          Evan holds his hands up in front of him. “You're just always really busy with your tutoring, and I've got a lot of responsibilities as an RA, and –”  
  
          “I only tutor –” Ophelia stops herself just before she says “Jules” – “a couple kids!”  
  
          “But you spend all your time with them. Well, you spend all your time with Jules. And she's great, but, like, it means we don't spend a lot of time together.”  
  
          It would be easier if Evan were angry, too, because then Ophelia wouldn't have to deal with the nagging anxiety that maybe Evan was never as into her as she was into him on top of all the other anxieties – that she wasn't into him enough, that she was saying all the wrong things, that she'd just totally collapse and go off the rails as soon as Evan walked out the door, et cetera. But Evan is chill, like he always is, and normally that would help defuse tension in a breakup situation, but Ophelia's neuroses are not a fan of normal. Or defusion. It's great.  
  
          “Why do we have to spend so much time together?” Ophelia says. “What matters is we have fun when we do, right? And we do! We have great sex, I crush your ass at video games – what's not to like?”  
  
          “It's not – you're not engaged, Ophelia.”  
  
          “You haven't proposed.”  
  
          “Not like that!” Evan buries his face in his hands. “I mean, you're not engaged in me. In doing stuff with me. We have fun, sure, but you're always kind of somewhere else.”  
  
          “Where the fuck else would I be?”  
  
          “I don't know.” Evan wrings his hands. He refuses to look at Ophelia; his eyes are downcast and his hair hangs in his face. He shifts back and forth on this feet awkwardly.  
  
          “What are you not saying?” Ophelia asks suddenly.  
  
          Evan looks up, but he still can't meet her eyes. “What do you mean?” he asks. “What I'm not saying?”  
  
          “You're hiding something,” Ophelia says, “and not subconsciously, either, because this – ” she gestures at Evan's body language; he's staring down at the ground again – "just screams purposeful avoidance.”  
  
          “I'm not … purposefully avoiding anything,” Evan says.  
  
          “Don't bullshit me, dude.”  
  
          Evan sighs. “Okay,” he says, looking Ophelia in the eye. “When I say we're going different ways, Ophelia, what I mean is you're an unstoppable force.”  
  
          “I'm a what now? What the fuck?”  
  
          “It's from this movie,” Evan explains. “It's about lesbians. I watched it after my sister came out. Anyways, one of the lesbians is, like, getting married to this guy, and then she falls in love with the florist at the wedding, and she really wants to be with the florist but she doesn't want to leave her husband, so then, eventually, the husband breaks up with her, and he tells her, about her being in love with the florist, he says 'what you're feeling now is the unstoppable force, which means that I have to move'.”  
  
          “You've seen _Imagine Me and You_?” Ophelia asks, staring at Evan with jaw slightly dropped. She shakes her head. “No, never mind. You've seen _Imagine Me and You_. How is that relevant at all to this situation?”  
  
          “You're in love with Jules,” Evan says.  
  
          “I'm not in love with Jules,” Ophelia says. She is, in fact, in love with Jules. She just didn't think that Evan knew.  
  
          “You kinda are, though,” Evan says.  
  
          “Okay. No. Well, maybe. Well, no. But like, assuming that I was, why would you break up with me over that? I like _you_. I _chose_ you.”  
  
          “Ah, but what you feel for Jules, Ophelia, is the unstoppable force,” Evan says, grinning a little at his playact, “which means that I have to move.”  
  
          “Okay.” Ophelia takes a deep breath. Her chest feels lighter than it has in ages. “I don't remember the next line, but okay.”  
  
          Evan shrugs. “This isn't a script,” he says. “Just? Promise me you'll tell her about your feelings. You're gonna end up a hot mess otherwise.”  
  
          “Already a hot mess,” Ophelia says, making finger guns. “But okay.” Her chest is tight again, but she tries to ignore it.  
  
          “Nice.” Evan nods. “Well.” He punches Ophelia's arm lightly. “See you around?”  
  
          “You're the only bitch who'll still play video games with me,” Ophelia says. “You bet you will.”  
  
          Evan nods at her and grins, and then he turns around and heads for the door. Once it's closed behind him, Ophelia goes to the counter and picks up her phone. Her heart is beating rapidly in her chest, and her stomach is doing somersaults. It's go time, she thinks, and as scared as she is, there's a sense of relief as well at the idea that finally, finally, Jules will know.

* * *

          "So.” Jules perches on the edge of the bed. “What's up?”  
  
          Now that Jules is here, Ophelia isn't sure confessing is such a good idea. What if she doesn't reciprocate? What if she's straight, and she can't? What if she hasn't picked up on the fact that Ophelia's queer – it's not like she's ever officially come out to Jules, although she hasn't made a secret of her bisexuality, either – and Jules knowing changes their friendship? What if Jules knows that she's queer, but doesn't know that Ophelia's into her, and knowing that changes their friendship? The best relationships are friendships, too; she doesn't want to lose what she has with Jules already, just to add to it.  
  
          “Ophelia,” Jules asks, brow furrowing in concern, “are you okay?”  
  
          “What?” Ophelia shakes her head to snap herself out of her funnel of worrying thoughts. “Um, yeah. Fine. You?”  
  
          “Okay.” The furrow in Jules' brow grows deeper, and her eyes take on a dark suspicion. “You didn't tell me to come over just so you could ask how I was, did you?”  
  
          “Would you believe me if I said I did?”  
  
          “No.”  
  
          “Fuck,” Ophelia groans, putting her hands on the counter behind her and leaning back. “Shit.”  
  
          “Seriously,” Jules says, “what's going on?”  
  
          “Um...” she can't spit it out, so she starts by tiptoeing around it. “Evan broke up with me,” she says, conversationally . Jules' face collapses.  
  
          “Oh god, I'm so sorry,” Jules says, coming over to put a hand on Ophelia's shoulder, which is so not what she needs right now, because she is working up to this, really, she is, but she needs to work up to it, goddamnit, and Jules' hand on her shoulder is making her skin tingle in a way that's gonna have her just confessing right that second like a hot mess. Not that she's not a hot mess, but still; she does _sometimes_ care about appearances. She shrugs off Jules' hand, and Jules' fingers curl into a loose, fidgety fist at her side; she wants to touch Ophelia again, but is holding back. God bless her. _Later,_ Ophelia promises silently, _if you say yes, if you like me back, well, then I promise you can touch me all you want_. She almost smiles, but bites her lip instead.  
  
          “Yeah,” she says. “I mean, it's whatever.”  
  
          “Really?” Jules asks, searching Ophelia with those eyes Ophelia has come to love so much, deep and perceptive and full of heart. “It's okay if it's not. If you're upset, you know. I mean, I know how much you liked him.”  
  
          “Yeah,” Ophelia says. _About that..._ “Um, it's funny, because that's kind of what we broke up over, actually.”  
  
          “What do you mean? What's kind of what you broke up over?”  
  
          “My liking him an amount which was … well, not insubstantial, but substantially less than the amount I liked someone else.” Ophelia sees Jules' expression change, and she hurries to clarify. “I didn't cheat. God, no. I may be a dick, but I'm not that much of a … dick.”  
  
          “You're not a …” Jules says. “well, you know, a …”  
  
          “A dick,” Ophelia finishes. She smiles “Well, that's sweet of you to say. Not sure it's _true_ , but it's sweet.”  
  
          Jules looks down at the floor. She's smiling and blushing slightly, and Ophelia's heart leaps in her chest. She pushes forward.  
  
          “Yeah. So, Evan thought – correctly, might I add – isn't that a surprise? – that I had more, you know, romantic feelings, I guess, for someone else than I did for him. And he was, you know, not wrong. Apparently.”  
  
          “Who do you have feelings for?” Jules asks earnestly.  
  
          “Was –“ Ophelia sighs. “Not sure whether or not I was hoping you would ask that.”  
  
          Jules' brow furrows again, and she looks at Ophelia with a changed sort of light in her eyes. She's figured it out. Ophelia hopes she'll say something, and save Ophelia herself from this horrifically awkward confession, but she doesn't. She waits for Ophelia to speak.  
  
          “It was – um – someone, who I know, who is – a girl, and a really phenomenal one, might I add – um, and Evan noticed, as Harris also has, that I spent a lot of time with this girl and that I maybe sort of looked at her in a way that was not entirely _you're my best friend_ and maybe had a little of _god I'm gay and I'm in love with you_ in it. Like, more _I'm in love with you_ than when I looked at Evan, reputedly, which is why he gave me an unstoppable force meets immovable object speech several hours ago and then demanded that I call the girl … I liked, and – tell her that I liked her. And, um, so ...” Ophelia, for lack of anything better to do, makes jazz hands. “Here we are!”  
  
          “Me?” Jules says, like she can't believe it, although Ophelia knows she had to know it was coming.  
  
          “Was that story not specific enough?” Ophelia asks. “I can, add in something like _and her name was Jules_ if it was unclear to you.” She realizes how her words are coming out, and stops, softens. “Yeah. You.”  
  
          “I –”  
  
          “If you don't feel that way about me, obviously, it's fine, and we can continue being friends – unless you stop wanting to be friends, which would suck but I could deal with it, if that's what you wanna do, and –” Jules puts her hand on Ophelia's shoulder again. Ophelia shuts up.  
  
          “Ophelia,” Jules says. “You're my best friend, and you're one of the two people in the world who knows about my vigilante identity, which inspires a deep, deep trust of the kind that is necessary for a successful romantic relationship, and, well, you're also ridiculously hot, which doesn't hurt. I don't want to stop being your friend, and, well, I don't not feel that way about you. The more-than-friends way.”  
  
          The feeling in Ophelia's body is better than a good high. “That's a yes, then?” she asks, only half jokingly. Jules smiles at her, and god, if that couldn't melt Ophelia right into the floor.  
  
          “Yes.”  
  
          “Can I kiss you?”  
  
          “Yeah.” Jules' smile widens. “Yeah, I'd like that.”  
  
          Ophelia leans in and cups Jules' face in her hands and kisses her, and god, she should not be thinking about Evan right now, but Evan was right about her being head over heels for Jules, because kissing Jules makes her head spin in a way kissing nobody else ever has. Jules wraps her arms around Ophelia's back and Ophelia presses into the kiss, thinking nothing more than that she never wants to have to do anything else again ever in her life. She opens her mouth, and Jules opens hers, and their tongues meet and Jules is a good kisser for sure but it's not so much her kissing abilities as the fact that she's Jules, perfect blonde sorority girl with a secret identity and hidden depths Jules, with whom Ophelia has shared so much since they met in that dark alleyway, and who Ophelia has, if she's being honest, been at least enamored of since that meeting, that has her feeling like her body is buzzing with energy and possibly ascending to some higher plane of existence. When Jules pulls away for air, Ophelia feels outside of herself, and it takes a moment for her to settle back into her own skin, which buzzes faintly still.  
  
          “Holy shit,” Ophelia breathes out.  
  
          Jules is wide-eyed. “Wow,” she breathes. Laughing lightly, she rests her head on Ophelia's shoulder, and Jules and Ophelia just stand there for a moment, still holding each other, by the kitchen counter of Ophelia's apartment. Eventually, Jules pulls away a little, but she takes Ophelia's hand and intertwines their fingers to soften the blow.  
  
          “Should have done that ages ago,” Ophelia says. “Damn.”  
  
          “It was really something,” Jules agrees. Ophelia laughs, and Jules looks up at her with a furrowed brow, a silent _what's so funny?_ in her eyes.  
  
          “It's nothing,” Ophelia says, “it's just – I really love you, Jules Thomas.”  
  
          “We just kissed for the first time,” Jules says.  
  
          “Yeah, but we've been hurtling toward this for a while, haven't we?” Surprise registers on Jules' face, and Ophelia backtracks a little. “I mean, I know I have. An unstoppable force has incredible inertia, and Harris has been expressing doubts about the platonicity of my feelings for you literally since I introduced you to him.”  
  
          “Really?” Jules asks, looking amused.  
  
          “He's nothing if not perceptive.”  
  
          “He did figure out I was the vigilante,” Jules says.  
  
          “And also that I was selling weed out of the store,” Ophelia adds.  
  
          “Everyone knows that.”  
  
          “Oh. Right.”  
  
          Jules smiles at Ophelia. “I should probably go,” she says, although she doesn't let go of Ophelia's hand. “I have movie night with Kennedy and the other Zeta girls tonight, and I have to help Kennedy set up.”  
  
          “How much setting up do you need for a movie night?” Ophelia asks. “Pick a movie, make some popcorn, roll a joint, grab a beer, done.”  
  
          Jules shakes her head, but there's a laugh in her eyes. “Your movie nights and ours are very different,” she says.  
  
          “Fair.” Ophelia says. She pauses for a moment. “Are you gonna tell Kennedy about us?” she asks. “Kissing, and, you know, being girlfriends –“ she caches herself, and winces. “If we are girlfriends, which I realize I didn't ask.”  
  
          “We're girlfriends,” Jules reassures her. She presses her lips together and thinks a second. “Can I tell Kennedy?” she asks.  
  
          “Of course. I'm assuming I can tell Harris?”  
  
          “It's not like it's going to be a surprise,” Jules says. She laughs. “For either of them, actually. Kennedy's been asking me if we were dating for weeks.”  
  
          “Everyone sees it before we do,” Ophelia says, shaking her head.  
  
          Jules laughs again. She stands on tiptoe to kiss Ophelia, and it's brief, this time, but god does it make Ophelia's head spin just as much as it did before.  
  
          “I really should go,” Jules says, disentangling her fingers from Ophelia's. “Text you later?”  
  
          “You're on,” Ophelia says, making finger guns. Jules smiles fondly at her and heads for the door. When she's gone, Ophelia goes over and collapses on the bed; she's sure she's got a goofy smile on her face, but she doesn't really care. She reaches for her phone where it sits halfway under her “everything's better with alcohol” pillow, and, cringing at the cheesiness even as she does it, adds a little emoji heart to Jules' name.


End file.
